20. Yellow Butterflies By The River

It was Bruno. Just her luck. Probably here to admonish her for messing up and causing the miracle to die, because the vision said it could have gone either way, dummy! And of course you had to screw it up so that it went the wrong way… all you had to do was hug your sister! I thought we had established that we wanted the house to not crack and break, thank you very much!  

Mirabel huffed, turning back around to sulk. At least it isn’t Abuela, she reasoned. Heaven forbid her grandmother showed up, she wasn’t sure if she could handle that confrontation. The disappointment. The anger. The accusations.

From behind her, there was nothing. She didn’t have to turn back around to discern that Bruno was still standing there. “Go away.” Her voice was choked up and hoarse from crying, but she hoped that despite this, Bruno would take her seriously and go back the way he came.

However, if the sound of footsteps drawing closer was any indication, that was not the case at all. And the worst part of it all, was that he didn’t say anything. He just sat down next to her, hunched in on himself as he settled onto the log.

So, Mirabel took it upon herself to break the silence. “Are you happy now?”

Bruno wrung his hands together, his fingers twisting and interlocking as he gave her a look of nervous apprehension. “Um, no? Why would I be happy?”

“Because your dumb prophecy came true!” Mirabel cried out through a stifled sob. “You were right! You saw me standing in front of a cracked Casita, and guess what?! That’s exactly what happened!” She braced her forearms on her knees, glaring dejectedly at the moist soil beneath her feet. “Even though I did my best. I thought I could stop it. I guess I was wrong.”

“Mirabel, please. You can’t be so hard on yourself.”

She shook her head. “Tío, you don’t get it. The magic is gone, everyone’s gifts are gone, and it’s all my fault.” Her lower lip trembled, and it took everything within her power to quell the quivering. “I can’t do anything right.”

“No.” Mirabel paused, taken off guard by the firmness of his tone. The fire simmering beneath the word caused her to lift her head and look back toward Bruno. “This is not your fault, Mirabel. Casita, our magic broke because our family is broken.”

“Yeah? And who’s fault is it that our family is broken?!”

“Mine.”

Mirabel froze. Oh. That… had not been the answer she had been expecting. Of course, when she asked that rhetorical question, she had been referring to herself, but then again, why did she expect that Bruno would tell her that it was her fault?

She wiped at her runny nose with the back of her hand. It was unhygienic, and just a little gross, but she couldn’t bring herself to care all that much. “Why would it be your fault?”

“Because everything always is.” It was impossible to miss the bitter undertone coloring his voice, the remnants of years of neglect and anguish seeping through. “The only thing my visions ever caused was pain. It had been going on for so long, so many bad prophecies that I always found myself blamed for. And on the night of your gift ceremony, when I saw the vision that foretold the downfall of our magic, I realized that I had enough. I wasn’t going to let you get hurt by one of my visions, so I left, thinking that it would help prevent fate from happening.” He shrugged in exhaustion. “Obviously I was wrong.”

This revelation, Bruno’s admission of the true reason for his departure, tore open a fresh wound in her aching heart. He had literally left the family to protect her. And in a way, it proved her own point; this was all her fault. Everything, from Bruno’s absence to the loss of the miracle. He had left because she hadn’t received a gift. All she did was cause problems; all she did was tear the family apart.

Realizing this, fresh tears began to cluster, clinging to her eyelashes. To hide her face and the embarrassing stream of snot that was on the cusp from running out of her nose, Mirabel buried her face in her hands, not caring that her hands would smear the lenses of her glasses and likely cause them to sit crooked on her nose.

Seeing this (and realizing that his answer had kind of sucked, even if he had genuinely meant it), Bruno crouched next to her, patting her back with so much awkward, excruciating hesitation, it was as if he were scared that she was a wild animal that would turn and bite him. “There, there,” he assured her, looking like he would be more comfortable drowning in the river than hunched over next to his crying niece.

Mirabel noticed this and a hollow laugh escaped from her, a small spark of joy amongst her sorrow and grief. “You’re not used to doing this, are you Tío?”

There was a pause, his hand pausing mid-pat. “Er, no, not really.”

This only made Mirabel laugh more, causing Bruno to withdraw his hand, the tips of his ears coloring in embarrassment.

But then, watching the river flow in front of her, eddies and whorls of water following the current, Mirabel sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I don’t know what to do next. How am I supposed to go back? How am I supposed to face the rest of the family? How could they possibly still love me, after all of this?”

“Mirabel, your family still loves you, very much. Regardless of what happened.”

Mirabel sniffled. “How could you possibly know that?”

“They’re searching tirelessly for you right now, Mirabel. The whole town is. They miss you very much, and it’s obvious to me that they care deeply for your safety.” There was a pause. “Just like I do.”  

A ghost of a grin tugged at the corners of Mirabel’s lips, touched by her Tío’s words. “How did you know I was here?”

“Where do you think I first went when I left?”

Mirabel started. “Wait, you’re telling me that you actually left Casita? And that you didn’t just immediately go into the walls? Wow, Tío, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“You didn’t think I had it in me?! Hold on, did you think I just went straight into the walls?” he asked, looking mildly offended.           

Mirabel snorted. “Well, what else was I supposed to think? That’s literally how I found you! In the walls! And you looked like you had been living there for quite a while, too!” It had been very apparent, the more time that she spent there, just how settled in Bruno had been. She had never mentioned it to him, especially since he was so adept at avoiding conversation topics he didn’t wish to partake in, but it had been pretty obvious to Mirabel that he had been there for quite a while.

“Fair point,” he relented with a small awkward laugh. He fell silent for a moment, shifting on the log as he gazed out over the river. “I wanted to leave the Encanto. I wanted to leave it all behind, because the fact that I had to disappear hurt so much and I couldn’t bear to be anywhere near it. So I came up this very path and stopped here, right at this same river bank.”

“Why did you stop?”

Bruno shrugged. “Well, I mean, the mountains surrounding the Encanto are pretty tall, and this river was really cold, not to mention when I got here I was super hungry with no food, and I don’t know how to cook… so I don’t know, I guess you could say that I really didn’t think the whole ‘running away’ thing that far ahead….”

Mirabel resisted the urge to laugh. His reasons were all very in line with what she would expect from him. “So… you went back, just because you were hungry?”

Bruno let out a hum as he scratched at the stubble on his chin in thought. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds pretty pathetic.”

Mirabel shrugged, nodding in agreement.

Bruno brushed off her confirmation (obviously, he had been hoping she would tell him ‘no, Bruno, you’re not pathetic at all!’) with a flippant wave of his hand. “But besides my lack of basic survival skills, do you want to know the real reason that I went back? Other than for the food of course. Oh, and the mice. Can’t forget about the mice.”

Mirabel couldn’t prevent the smile that began to manifest on her face, Bruno’s exuberance proving to be efficient at drawing her from her moody slump. “Why?” she asked, humoring him as she was sure that she already knew the answer.

“I went back because I love my family. And I realized that no matter the circumstances, I couldn’t leave them behind.”

Mirabel reached down and picked up a rock beside her foot. It was flat and smooth, an ideal skipping stone. Rolling it between her fingers, feeling for any roughness on its cold surface, she deemed it worthy of being thrown into the river. Narrowing her eyes, she adjusted her grip on the pebble so that it was nestled snuggly between her fingers, and with a precise flick of her wrist, sent it spinning through the air. It skimmed against the surface of the water, one, two, three, four, five times before it disappeared into the depths of the stream. Not bad. “Is this the part where you tell me that I should go back?” Roving a hand over the soil on the riverbank, Mirabel selected another stone, this time passing it off to Bruno.

He accepted the stone wordlessly, giving it an apprehensive glance as if he had no idea what to do with it (which was very accurate: he actually didn’t know what to do with it, not at all). “Well, I can’t really force you to do anything.” He squeezed an eye shut, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he lined up the shot. Mimicking Mirabel’s form, he sent the pebble sailing out over the water, where it sunk with a single splash. “But yes. That’s exactly what I’m implying.”

Mirabel lowered her chin onto her forearms. Bruno’s suggestion sounded good in theory, but Mirabel knew that in reality, that was not the case at all. “That’s easier said than done. How could I even go back? What would I even say? This has probably made everyone hate me even more now.”

“I love you, Mirabel, we all love you. I know it’s hard to believe sometimes with this family, trust me, I’ve been there and definitely experienced that, but at the end of the day, we’re all here to support you. No matter the circumstances, no matter what happens. That’s what family is for.” He bent over, searching the dirt for another rock. Finding one that was, in Mirabel’s opinion, definitely not suitable for skipping— it was large with a pockmarked surface, and about as far from flat as a rock could get—, he threw it out over the river, this time his form somehow managing to look even worse as the rock struck the water only once. He let out a huff of dismay before turning back to Mirabel. “No pressure, though, of course. But I’m going to be sitting here on this log. In silence. Until you make up your mind as to what you want to do next.”

Mirabel hummed. “Well, if you’re going to sit on that log in silence, then you might as well learn how to properly skip a stone while you’re at it.”

Dislodging a promising pebble that was half submerged in the dirt, Mirabel brushed off the residue mud and handed to Bruno, before plucking a second one for herself. “Watch me,” she instructed, going through the motions at a slow speed so he could follow. Looking back at Bruno, she frowned as she noticed the horrendous way he gripped the stone in a clenched fist, rather than delicately balanced between his fingers.  

“You’re holding it wrong,” she said, gesturing at his fist with a sharp point of her mouth. "Have you really never done this before?"

There was an awkward pause, and Bruno fidgeted in place. "I, er, you see, never really had the chance... I don't—"

Mirabel understood what he was trying to say well enough. Or at least, she thought she understood, moving past his stumbling admission (and stark reminder) that he had never really had friends growing up and had been an outcast in the community by turning to face him. "Here, I'll show you." Pocketing her rock, she used her hands to reposition his fingers around the flat stone. “Like this.”

Bruno gave his hand a disdainful glance, clearly uncomfortable with the awkward position his hand was mangled into to hold the stone properly. “Mirabel, I feel stupid.”

“You won’t feel stupid when you skip a rock for the first time!” she retorted, the alternative comeback being something along the lines of feeling stupid shouldn’t be new for you!

Bruno let out a derisive grunt, but otherwise kept his complaints to himself. Mirabel interpreted this as permission to continue. “Now that you’re holding it correctly, you wind up like this—” she drew her arm back, “—follow through by leading with your elbow—” her arm swung in a wide arc, “—flick your wrist and keep it level, and then let the rock go!” She performed the action a few more times before doing it for real, snapping the rock across the water at a speed so fast, the eye could barely follow. This time, she counted six skips. Nice.

She turned back to Bruno, pleased. “Okay. Your turn.”  

“I can already skip it once. Isn’t that good enough?”

“Tío, skipping it once is the same as just throwing it into the water.”

Bruno groaned. “Fine, I’ll do it. But no promises that it’s going to work!”

His brows furrowing, he attempted to mirror Mirabel’s instructions. After a few practice motions, his gangly limbs and abysmal form leading Mirabel to conclude that he would probably only get one skip, he threw the stone. To the surprise of both of them, it skipped twice, clumsily bouncing on the surface of the water once before disappearing with a resound plunk!

His face lit up, and he turned to Mirabel with a proud beam. She clapped and shot him a thumbs up in response. “Where did you learn to skip stones like that?” he asked, sitting back down beside her on the log.

Mirabel shrugged. “My dad taught me.”

When she had been younger, Augustín would take her down to the river every Sunday afternoon and teach her how to skip rocks. It had all started when she had lost some money to a few friends in town over a rock-skipping bet, and she had run crying to her father. Augustín had turned it into some cheesy lesson about how she shouldn’t bet money she wasn’t prepared to lose (ugh, barf), all before taking her down to the river and showing her how to select the best rocks and angle her wrist in the right way to get the optimal rotation on the stone as she threw it. Over time, it became less of a ‘teaching’ ordeal, and more of an excuse for her and her dad to hang out for an afternoon, especially when Mirabel had taken it upon herself to practice outside of their little rock-throwing sessions. Her personal best was eleven skips. The river in the Encanto wasn’t wide enough for more.

“Your dad taught you, hm?” There was a conspiring glint in Bruno’s eyes that put Mirabel on edge, knowing that he was about to say something she probably wouldn’t like. “And how do you think Augustín is feeling about you running away, right now at this very moment?”

She had been right. She didn’t like that one bit. And to express this sentiment, she glared at him. “You really are the worst sometimes, you know that right?”

Bruno shot her a toothy grin. “I’m used to it. I heard that a lot, you know, right before I left.”

Mirabel couldn’t prevent the undignified scoff that escaped her lips at his tactless joke. “I’m starting to think that the townspeople were onto something,” she quipped back, smirking as Bruno pressed a theatrical hand to his chest in mock offense.

Her smile faded, however, as her mind returned to the conflict at hand, digging her fingers into the log as she took steady breaths to steel herself. To prepare for what was to come next. Because what was she even doing here, by the river? What was this accomplishing? Who was this helping, other than Bruno’s rock-skipping skills, which were in desperate need of some practice? She needed to stop hiding from her fears. She needed to go face the consequences of her actions. “I’m ready to go back,” she announced, causing Bruno’s head to snap in her direction. “But what about you? Will you be coming back with me?”

Bruno searched her gaze, helpless as he stammered in his attempts to answer. “I—” he began, but then cut himself short, looking wildly toward the muddy path over Mirabel’s shoulder. “Oh no.”

Mirabel glanced behind her, trying to see what was the cause of Bruno’s panic. However, there was nothing there; the path was empty. Mirabel frowned in confusion. “What are you…?”

But when she turned around, he was gone.

Classic Bruno. Always running from his problems, off hiding to escape from any sort of confrontation. Like a mouse in the walls.  

Although what he was hiding from, Mirabel hadn’t been entirely sure of, that is, until she felt the brush of Abuela’s skirts against her legs as she sat down next to her, right in the seat that Bruno had been occupying mere moments earlier.

“I thought I would find you here.”

Mirabel, who had initially jumped in surprise at Abuela's impromptu arrival, gave her a look of bewilderment. “Why’s that?”

“You left behind a little trail of thread on your way up here. Not many people embroider with such vibrant colors, you know.”

“Oh.”

Nice one, Mirabel, she scolded herself, feeling that her response was lacking in more ways than one. But what else was she supposed to say to that? Oh gee, thanks Abuela, I’m glad that the loose threads of my shoddy embroidery created a trail to lead you right to me! Isn’t that just wonderful? Thank goodness that I’m not only a screwup in not having a gift, or singlehandedly destroying our house, but I can’t even properly run away uncaught!

“You’ve always been so creative, Mirabel. So full of wonders, full of your own magic.” Abuela sighed. “I was a fool for not seeing it, for not appreciating it sooner.”

Well that… had not been what Mirabel had anticipated to hear her to say. Scolding words? Of course. Yelled blame? Certainly. But this praise, the very thing that she had spent her entire life seeking, spoken in such a casual manner, spoken so offhand… Mirabel didn’t know what to make of it. And as a result, all she found that she could do was openly stare.

Abuela had fallen silent, studying the dark stream with a serene gaze. After a few prolonged moments of gawking, Mirabel suddenly snapped out of it, realizing that Abuela was sitting next to her, and what on earth was she doing?! She needed to be apologizing, begging for forgiveness, not gaping at her presence like some mindless fish!

“Listen, Abuela,” she began in a rush, the abrupt delivery of her words disturbing the peace of the beautiful setting. “I’m sorry. The miracle, the magic, Casita, all of it… it’s gone, because of me. I’m the reason everything is so screwed up, it’s all my fault, and I hope you can forgive me.”

“Mirabel, why would you say that?” Her voice was calm, not angered or accusing like Mirabel thought she would be. Like she had every right to be.

Mirabel bit at her bottom lip, momentarily weighing the benefits and drawbacks of sharing, before deciding to let it spill. Because what was the point? What was there left to protect? Her dignity? Her pride? No, that had all crumbled with the house, extinguished with the candle.

“Bruno… he had a vision. One that showed me in front of a broken, cracked Casita. But it wasn’t set in stone, it wasn’t final, because it would change, and depending on how you looked at it, there would either be cracks or no cracks. And then he told me that in order to save the miracle, I would have to hug Isabela, which at first I was totally not into doing, but then I was just going to suck it up and do it, however I couldn’t because, well, she saw Bruno. And I'm so sorry for keeping him a secret, I didn't mean to, I didn't even know it was him for the majority of the time, but he seemed so scared of what you might do if you found out, and—"

“Mirabel, I don’t care about Bruno’s vision.”

“You… you don’t?”

“No.” Abuela finally tore her eyes away from the stream, turning to look at Mirabel. She placed a delicate hand on her knee, the action of affection sending a glowing warmth to travel through Mirabel from the point of contact. “I only care about making sure that you’re all right.”

Mirabel froze, the only part of her moving (other than her pounding heart) were the tears that began to stream in thick rivulets down her cheeks. Try as she did, desperate as she was, she was powerless to stop them, resigning herself to looking like a weak fool in front of the woman whose approval she sought after her entire life.

“But why? Why would you care?” When you never have before? When all you would do is snub me, ignore me, exclude me from the family?

Abuela sighed, withdrawing her hands and clasping them in her lap. Mirabel bit at her bottom lip, finding herself missing the connection between them more than she cared to admit. “All this time, I was so focused on the miracle, the magic of our gifts, that I lost sight of those who were actually important. The people the miracle was for. I lost sight of you, Mirabel.” She inhaled a shaky, shuddery breath, and all Mirabel could do was stare in mute disbelief as Abuela’s words washed over her skin.  Cleansing the tension in their relationship, not enough to fully wipe away the years of grime and neglect, but enough for it to be an admirable start. “Do you want to know the other reason why I thought I would find you here, Mirabel?”

Words would not form. Mirabel had no response, because she was scared at how her voice would betray the swell of emotions in her chest if she were to dare to speak. So instead, she gave Abuela a silent nod.

“This is where it happened. This is where we….” She faltered, stumbling for a moment before she was able to recover “…were given our miracle.”

As if on cue, a yellow butterfly fluttered down from above, landing on a small perch in the river in front of them. Just like the butterfly she had seen with Luisa. Just like the butterfly she had seen with Bruno.

Realization dawned on her. Reminded of when she had followed the yellow butterfly in Bruno’s vision, Mirabel felt a strong urge to do the same with this one, its marigold wings fluttering in the morning light. Standing up, allowing her feet to guide her, Mirabel held out a hand for Abuela to accompany her. Without question, without a single word, only understanding trust, Abuela and Mirabel waded out into the river with linked arms. Warmth from their tendrils of their infant bond flowed between them, delicate and vulnerable, but real.

And then, knee deep in the cold river, Abuela told her the story of Pedro. How they had met, how happy they had been. I thought I would be a different woman. How their small family was torn apart by war and violence, how they pioneered the exodus from their home.

How Pedro sacrificed himself to save not just Abuela and their precious triplets, but the entire community. And how the candle sprung up in the aftermath of his death, creating the Encanto and protecting those who fled the vandals that pursued them with their terror and murderous intent.

How Abuela was left in a beautiful, expressive house all by herself. Numb and broken with her babies, the only remnant she had of her beloved Pedro, echoes of her past in a vibrant, new land.

“I understand now,” Mirabel said, her eye widening. “Abuela, you suffered so much, all on your own. And to make sure that none of us would ever suffer like you ever had, you sacrificed so much. You’re the reason we have our Encanto, and our strong community. You’re the reason we have our miracle.”

“No, Mirabel,” she said, enveloping Mirabel’s hands in her own as she shook her head. “I asked my Pedro to send us a miracle. He sent us you.” The river was no longer cold, but warm, and as the sun rose overhead and the butterflies swarmed all around them, Mirabel and her Abuela embraced.

For Mirabel, it was amazing. Years of yearning for something like this, and she finally received it. However, it didn’t feel forced, not in the way she herself had tried forcing it, but it felt natural. A mutual understanding of each of their motives, desires, and actions, manifesting in one simple yet infinite gesture. And afterwards, when they had pulled apart, each with their own teary smile as they walked back to the riverbank, Mirabel felt happy. Light. Moreso than she had felt in years, though not only because she had felt seen and loved, but because she understood why she had been treated the way that she had. Not that Abuela’s reasons were an excuse, not in the slightest, but simply knowing lifted a weight off her shoulders she hadn’t even known had been pressing down on her. And without this weight, she was content.

Except, of course, she had forgotten one very important thing.

One very important thing that she only remembered at Abuela's next words.

“You can come out now, Brunito.”

There was a pause. A stretch of silence that lasted so long, that Mirabel had been just about to tell Abuela that he was probably gone (and also that he had never been there in the first place) when she heard the rustling of leaves. Then, off to the side, Bruno emerged, wincing as he stepped out into the light. Mud caked the fringe of his ruana, and there were a few leaves and sticks in his hair; very befitting to his usual disheveled appearance.

Abuela’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly, as if she hadn’t been expecting him to actually step out. Speechless, she watched as he approached, eyes shifting as though she were scared that he was a ghost that could disappear at any moment.

Bruno was evidently very uncomfortable by the silence, because he chose to sever it with some very typical Bruno-rambling. “That was, um, very nice. That hug you guys just did. I—”

His words were cut off as Abuela pulled him into a hug of her own, squeezing him so tightly that the breath was stolen from his lungs. All he could do was gawk as Abuela grabbed him by the side of his head and planted a solid kiss on his cheek, patting the spot as she moved to walk past him.  

“I… huh?” Bruno, articulate as always, was at a loss for words. He looked to Mirabel in question, who shrugged. “Wait, you’re not… mad? At me?”

Abuela responded with a soft smile and a subtle shake of her head. “Come along. It’s time we go back home, don’t you think?”

Bruno grimaced as he flinched at the implication, looking between the two of them before leaning over toward Mirabel and lifting a cupped hand over his mouth in a concealed, secretive manner. “Are we really doing this? Are we actually going back?” he whispered in a painfully loud voice, loud enough for Abuela to hear. Probably even loud enough for Dolores to hear all the way back in the Encanto, that is, if she still had her gift.

Mirabel nodded. “I think we’ve both been gone long enough.”

Bruno’s eyes darted back to Abuela, wearing a sheepish expression. “You, uh, didn’t happen to bring something like a horse or a donkey with you, did you?” 

Abuela shook her head. Mirabel rubbed the back of her neck and averted her gaze.

Bruno sighed. “This is going to be a long walk, isn’t it.”